A tribute to buffets...

A lazy Sunday afternoon is only truly complete when you sit yourself down at a nicely laid table and tug at the starched napkin, in preparation to feast for two hours. I hadn't done this in quite a while. But yesterday was THE day. The Blue Waters Sunday buffet is out of this world. I can't even remember all the types of food that I guided into my salivating mouth, but my tummy sure does when it is still trying to process the hefty quantities, nearly 24 hours later. So smoked seer and mutton korma apart, our table conversation revolved around buffet manners and etiquette. The girls, being all prim and proper, were not prepared to dig in with their fingers when needed. The boys, on the other hand, were adamant that a little farting and burping is required when stuffing yourself with copious amounts of food. See, the theory behind that is, when you swallow a mouthful, you swallow with it air which is already in your throat. So when the air gets into your tummy, it takes valuable space that could well have been attributed to food. So in order to make more room for the yummy food that the chefs took all morning to prepare, which would, in effect, go to absolute waste if we don't stuff more than what our tummy's can hold, we need to fart and burp a little to get rid of the wretched air in our stomachs. Comprehendo? So Salads, bread, 2 servings of main course, a hefty dessert and 2 hours later, we were sprawled on beach chairs, unable to move, stuffed to the brim with food and no air, only to be told that tea was to be served in 10 minutes.